


Whiskey Won't Solve Your Problems

by RainbowRandomness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, anniversary of Stiles' mothers death, drinking whiskey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRandomness/pseuds/RainbowRandomness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the anniversary of <i>that day</i>, and Derek finds Stiles drinking in the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Won't Solve Your Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post: http://skyskytheinkyone.tumblr.com/post/47560545238/its-the-anniversary-of-that-day-and-derek-finds

The sun was beginning to set as Derek wandered through the woods, twigs breaking beneath the heels of his boots as leaves were crushed and crumbled, lifting the scent of the earth to tickle his nose. He weaved his way through the trees, the chill air nipping at his skin as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

He stopped for a moment, scenting the air; the sharp scent of pine, the spicy smell of cinnamon somewhere far off, the fresh crunch of crisp leaves beneath him lifting the scent of fruits that the forest animals stored for the coming winter months.

And amongst the smell of the woods around him was the unique scent that he could always place; that strange mixture of fresh rain and honeysuckle mixed with the natural scent of the earth with the hint of something Derek could never seem to place. He liked to call that part of the scent a ‘spark’ and that’s how he knew that Stiles was near.

He continued to walk, following the trail of the teens scent and picking up on the smell of something sour, which caused his nose to wrinkle. He recognized it as one of his father’s favourite drinks, at least from when he was alive, the smell reminding him of walking into his father’s office to find him working by the fireplace with the brown liquid sloshing lazily in its glass as his father gently rocked the glass as he clutched the edges with his fingertips.

Coming out into a slight clearing, he looked up to find Stiles sitting alone upon a tree stump, his red hoodie a bright contrast against their bleak surroundings, his back turned towards Derek. The sadness and despair was rolling off Stiles in waves, a mixture of emotions that all led to an inevitable helplessness that made the wolf in Derek whimper and whine, wanting to reach out and comfort the pup of his pack.

He waited for a moment before calling the teen’s name, more softly than he had meant to, and he heard Stiles’ heartbeat stutter and jumpstart as he physically flinched, not bothering to turn around to face Derek. His shoulders hunched slightly as the wolf approached, his eyes averted to the side as Derek came to stand before him.

His clothes were covered in specs of dirt, the right knee of his jeans ripped open and holding on by fraying threads. His hair was windswept, tousled here and there and sticking up wildly, as if he had been raking his hands through the short hair and tugging.

As Derek bent down to get at eye level with Stiles, he saw the younger male’s face had a scratch upon his cheek and forehead, dried blood clotting and healing the wounds. They smelled fresh, as did the tears; there were drying tear tracks down his flushed cheeks and his eyes seemed sunken, irises dull in comparison to their usual bright amber. Now they just seemed faded, unseeing and void of emotion.

Reaching forward slowly, so as not to startle Stiles, Derek ran his thumb over the scratch on Stiles’ cheek, feeling the boy flinch at the touch. His brow furrowed before he asked, “How did you get these?”

Stiles shrugged, reaching up to grip Derek’s wrist weakly as he said, “Fell over once or twice... probably a twig scratched my face.”

Derek stayed silent, his eyes trying to catch and hold Stiles’ gaze but the teen doesn’t look his way. He stayed silent for another moment before saying, “You didn’t go to school today; the pack were worried.”

Again, Stiles shrugged, the hand on Derek’s wrist pulling the older man’s hand away from his cheek before he reaches down between them to retrieve the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels by his feet. Derek watched as Stiles unscrewed the lid, taking a long swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeved hand.

“Where did you get the whiskey from Stiles?” he asked, nose wrinkling again when Stiles’ answered, his breath sour, “Nicked it from my dad. I didn’t want him to drink too much on Mum’s...” he trailed off, looking down at the floor. Derek waited for him to finish and at last Stiles whispers, a tremor in his voice, “I didn’t want him drinking on the anniversary of Mum’s death.”

Silence fell, broken only by an escaped sob as Stiles bent his head, fat tears sliding down his cheeks and falling to create tiny puddles on the thighs of his jeans. He was shaking as he tried to curl in on himself, tried to distance himself from Derek, because shit, he didn’t need _Derek_ of all people to see him like this, frail and broken and _crying_. He just wanted to be alone, wanted to drink and forget about how much everything sucked, how their lives were fucked up and how, no matter how many years passed, Stiles still felt empty and hollow by the loss of his mother.

Warm arms wrapped around him, Stiles squirmed, tried to get away but Derek held him tight, bringing him close. He said nothing as the teen struggled, pushing at him as he cried, until at last he gave in and clutched at his leather jacket, the front of his shirt becoming soaked from Stiles’ excessive tears.

“It’s okay,” Derek murmured, reaching up to card his fingers through Stiles’ hair as the boy whimpered into his chest, “It’s okay.”

Their embrace was awkward, Derek kneeling between Stiles’ parted legs as he held the boy and brung him forward, Stiles collapsing into his arms as the whiskey bottle dug into his stomach, but it’s what Stiles needed; someone to hold him, a strong force that won’t pity him, won’t judge him, because Derek’s soothing voice was whispering reassurance into his ears and there was no judgement or pity, just a deep understanding that made Stiles ache for the both of them.

They stayed like that until, at last, Stiles stopped crying, merely sniffling and hiccupping as he rested his head against Derek’s chest, listening to the sound of his calm, even heartbeat while Derek rested his chin upon his head, his fingers still carding slowly through Stiles’ hair. They’re silent, not wishing to break the moment, but Stiles shivers as a breeze rolls by and Derek leans back, letting his arms drop to Stiles’ arms as he said, “Let’s get you home.”

\---

They find Stiles’ Jeep parked in the woods, out of site from the road and from nosey passersby, and Derek extended his hand for the keys, which Stiles drops into his palm without much protest, simply sliding into the passenger seat and allowing Derek to drive him home.

They don’t speak in the car and the whiskey lies abandoned in Stiles’ lap. When he goes to uncap the lid to take another swig, Derek’s hand reaches over and clutches his. Stiles looked up to find the older man’s eyes still trained on the road ahead, his expression blank, but his hand was warm and Stiles wriggled his hand until their fingers entwined, his gaze returning to the view outside his side window and the whiskey once again forgotten in his lap.

\---

The lights were on when they got to the Stilinski house and Stiles watched as the curtain twitched. He knew his dad could see them both and would be suspicious of Derek, as he always was, but Stiles couldn’t muster up the feeling of caring; it’s not like Derek was a bad guy, it’s just that his dad didn’t know him well enough to know that.

Looking down at their still entwined fingers, Stiles fiddled with the whiskey bottle with his free hand, unsure of what to do. His gaze flickered back up to the living room curtains but he couldn’t see his dad so he risked a glance at Derek instead, his breath hitching when he saw how close Derek was.

“Derek?” Stiles breathed, twisting slightly to fully face the wolf as best he could in the cramped space of his Jeep. Derek was leaning forward and reaching for his lap and Stiles panicked for a moment before noticing that Derek was simply removing the bottle of Jack Daniels from his grip.

“Go see your dad,” he murmured and Stiles nodded. As Derek pulled away he grabbed hold of his sleeve, making Derek look back at him in confusion.

“Please don’t leave me,” he said, and they could both hear the vulnerability in his voice, the slight tremor as he looked down at his lap and away from Derek’s cool gaze.

“I’ll meet you in your room,” he heard Derek say, and when he glanced back up, Derek’s expression was warm, understanding and he sighed in relief before he reached over to take the keys from the ignition, unbuckling himself and sliding out of the car.

He glanced back over at the Jeep once whilst walking towards the front door to find Derek already gone.

\---

His dad and him had hugged and shed a tear before retiring to bed and Stiles was grateful when he opened his bedroom door to find Derek sitting on the end of his bed, his shoes placed neatly by Stiles’ desk chair, which was wearing Derek’s leather jacket on its back. He smiled before shutting the door, toeing off his shoes and pulling off his socks before removing his jeans and throwing them haphazardly onto the floor. Derek rolled his eyes but removed his own jeans and laid them over the back of the desk chair with his jacket while Stiles took off his red hoodie and threw it over in the direction of his chair. Derek caught it and placed it onto the chair while Stiles slid under the covers and waited for Derek to join him.

When the bed dipped, Stiles half opened his eyes and watched as Derek slid in next to him, bringing the cover up around them both. Stiles leaned forward, tucking his head beneath Derek’s chin before he sighed, shutting his eyes.

“Thanks for being there for me today... and thanks for not leaving me,” he whispered, feeling Derek’s arms wrap around his waist. He copied the action, snuggling closer as he felt Derek kiss the top of his head before he buried his face into Stiles’ hair.

“Night Derek,” he yawned, but he was already half asleep when he heard Derek whisper back, “Goodnight Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> All of my work is terrible, omfg why do I bother, argh  
> Well we found out Stiles' mother's name is Claudia. I don't think any of us really thought of that one so yeah...  
> Eh, I've been meaning to write this for a while now but I've only just kinda finished it off and stuff and it still sucks but oh well.


End file.
